THE MEMORY CANISTER EXPLOSION INCIDENT.
Ever since the incident, I have needed to learn to remember.
Before, when every day was almost over, we'd suck our memories out of the back of our minds and deposit them in the memory canister. Everything from our dreams the previous night to what we'd seen and heard on our way to the memory canister was preserved perfectly in this unremarkable canister. And we gradually forgot how to get the memories we had stored back from the memory canister: it was still there, just mixed with all the other memories and stuffed into the memory canister. It was set up at the top of a column at the southernmost point in the small town; gradually, people would start to worship the canister for a bit before devoting their memories to it.
Until the day the incident happened.
The day was cool and it was raining lightly. We were all wearing thin coats and were on the street, slowly walking, walking. Suddenly, on the southern horizon, everyone saw a ray that was more dazzling to the eye than a noonday sun.
After that, even though nobody said a word, we all felt something big had happened.
The unclaimed memories proceeded northwards in waves at the speed of sound. When they struck me, I felt--
Summertime, taking in the warm breeze, being in the sunshine.
Wintertime, with the window open, letting in a cold wind.
Hunting laboriously for the cool spots under the covers with feet.
On a rainy day, letting the pouring rain drench all the worn clothes through.
When I had relived the whole town's memories, I glanced at my watch. It told a bad lie: it said only a minute or two had passed, when the lifetimes of all of us had passed.
"I think we should recover our own memories and forget those of others," the girl in front of me said to I don't know whom.
Nobody answered her. What were we thinking in each of our minds? Was it apologizing, feeling guilt, and repenting for the wrongdoings contained in the memories which had left and then returned? Or were we thinking about how best we could use those memories of others as ways to manipulate them?
I saw her, looking blankly into the distance, like she was in deep thought about something. Suddenly, she squatted down and began crying softly.
I kept on the road, slowly walking, walking.